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The Mad Angel
The Ordo Angelus is among the oldest and most famous of the chapters formed from the gene seed of the Primarch Sanguinius. Their defining trait is that they worship their gene-father, using their every moment to praise him. Even when they fall into the Black Rage, they still keep him in their minds... “Fear not my lord! Your sons stand by you!” The angel cut through one demon, before using his shoulder to break the face of another. Around him, his brothers were fighting the demonic forces as well - but the angel only had eyes for his lord. Tall, clad in golden armour. His ebony black hair blew around his perfect face, while his pearly wings were folded at his back. With a golden mace his lord pointed towards the foe: “Advance!”. The angel howled his wall cry, and turned to face - a sudden explosion, and only black was known. Dust was everywhere. It filled the sky, in a yellow fog that hid even the sun from sight. It covered the rubble, strewn across the ground like a shattered mountain. It covered the boy that picked through the corpses. And there were many. Some were the green-skin invaders, that had come to the world only for war. Others were human, those that had died attempting to halt the green tide. And dotted amongst them were giant warriors clad in gold and red. Orks littered the ground around them, testament to how hard they had fought, only to fall in the end. The boy idly chose the bodies he scavenged from. Human and ork were both as likely to have his scarred hands investigate, turnover, and remove what little he could carry in his ragged backpack. But the boy didn't go near the giants, either from fear or respect. So it was some surprise when the boy realised he stood next to one. Unlike the other ones, this warrior’s armour was black, and showed much less battle-wear. In fact, the boy noticed as he crouched down, the only major damage done was a large crater that covered the left shoulder plate. Obviously something had struck it, hard. The boy’s searching hand traced the edge of the crater, before moving to the beaked helmet. Strange, the boy wondered. The way the red lenses were softly flaring, it almost looked like the warrior was awake… Suddenly the boy found his hand encased in back. He yelped and pulled back, the giant loosening its grip. As he fell on his backside, he watched in shock as the warrior carefully stood, towering above him. Then it spoke. “What is wrong my Lord?” The giant watched his lord warily. His face, as always, betrayed no emotion, but the angel could not help feel his lord was displeased. Perhaps he was angry, that the angel had fallen unconscious? Perhaps ashamed? Then his lord spoke. “Who are you?” The boy asked, worried. Who did the warrior think he was? “Why were you on the ground?” “I am one of your sons, my lord Sanguinius. One of the demons must have struck with enough force to render me unconscious.” The angel paused a moment, looking across the darkened battlefield. “Has the foe been defeated, my lord? Where are my brothers?” The boy slowly got back to his feet. The warrior thought he was Sanguinius? The most well loved son of the Emperor? If he called Sanguinius his father, he would have to be one of the Space Marines that had arrived to fight the orks. But what would he do if he learned the boy was not his father? “Your brothers are… in that direction,” the boy said, pointing in the direction he believed the spaceport to be. According to his rebuilt vox, that was where the forces of the Imperium had held their ground against the ork wave that had demolished the city. “The orks… the enemy has been beaten back, for now.” “Then we should return, my lord, lest the demons attack in our absence. The angel flared his wings, and turned to fly, until he realised his lord had not done the same. “My lord? Should we not fly?” “Er, you go ahead. I… want to rest my… wings. I’ll walk back.” The boy kept a calm face, even when the previously unnoticed jump pack on the warriors’ back roared into life. He didn’t know how much the Space Marine truly saw of him, but it would be best not to do anything that would alarm him. Really, it would be best if he just returned to his brothers, who were much more likely to able to deal with him in his… confused state. But the warrior turned back to him, and his jump pack’s roar faded. “My lord, if you will walk, I will walk with you. The foe may still be around.” The boy was about to protest, although he wasn't really sure why, when the warrior suddenly charged past, not even touching him. He spun round to see the warrior slam shoulder first into an ork that had appeared from the dust cloud. Both fell onto the ground in a heap, but the warrior recovered first and took the ork’s head in his hands. The boy closed his eyes, but he still heard the squeal of anger, cut short by a fleshy rip. He shuddered, and opened his eyes to find the warrior right next to him. Looking up, he could have sworn the black helmet was giving off a justified air. “All right,” he sighed. “Follow me.” And so the boy and the warrior set across the ruined city. It didn't take long for more orks to find them. They heard their approach first, a drumming that seem to come from all directions at once. Then they appeared from the mist, waving crude swords and letting screams that could only be described as primal. The warrior returned the roar, and ran forward with nothing but his fists. The boy hung back, clutching his small knife. The demon crumpled like clay beneath his fists, and the angel laughed as he blocked the blade of another. These demons were weak! Even if he had his weapons, he may not have used them. Slapping another strike away, he punched the demon in the throat then kicked it in the head as they fell. He turned into a punch, catching it and crushing the hand. Ignoring the tormented howls he ripped out the arm and threw it at an oncoming foe. The next got past his guard, and with a howl struck him with a blunt weapon, sending him to the ground. The angel made to stand, but the ork hit him the face, causing his head to ring and causing him to fall again. Painfully raising himself on his hands, he glared at the demon as it smiled down at him. It’s smile was suddenly replaced with a shriek. The boy sharply pulled his knife out of the ork’s knee, then as it collapsed forward he jumped up and wrapped his arm around his neck. He plunged the knife into the back of the head, then pulled it out just to plunge it back in a few times. When the ork finally hit the floor, he sat up on it’s back and let out his breath. He had been in a few short fights before, but this was the first life he had taken, human or xeno. He looked up to see the warrior standing above him. "A good kill, my lord." He watched his lord wipe his blade on the deceased demon, before straightening up and taking a deep breath. "Onward then." They walked for some time before any landmark appeared from the mist. A single stone arch, almost defiant in the way it rose out of the rubble. Clustered about its base were more bodies; ork, human, and space marine. The boy stood back while the warrior strode forwards, and knelt by one of his dead brothers. Their helmet was partially shattered, and a eye stared out in anger. The warrior gently closed it, and remained kneeling as the boy approached, unsure of what to say. “I am sorry for their death.” The angel turned his head to see his lord beside him, and he sighed gently. “We all know our duty, my lord. We do not falter, even as death claims us.” Turning back, he noticed his brother still held his holy weapon in his grip. Prying it loose, he grimly smiled as he saw the pistol still had half a magazine left. “At least we are better armed now my lord.” The boy nodded, staring at the arch. He had finally recognised it as part of the entrance to the Chapel of Eternal Faith. He was abandoned here as a baby; raised amongst the other orphans of society, before he fled the strict and confining halls for the freedom of the back alley. He shook himself as the warrior stood again, and consulted his mental map of the city. “The spaceport should be a couple more miles that way.” Before the two could move, an inhuman roar echoed through the dust. Having raised his weapon automatically, the angel looked at this lord with slight worry. “It came from the way we must go. Shall we see what caused it?” His lord nodded hesitantly, and they both set out through the dark. One moment the boy was climbing a small mound of masonry - next thing he knew he was being clutched to the warrior's chest as a hail of stubber fire ricocheting off his armour . When the fire relented, the warrior dropped him and he managed to see their enemy; a large ork war-boss, tossing aside a stubber in apparent disgust. Large part of it’s body were metal plated, and one it’s arm ended in rough, sharp claws. The boy’s mind finally caught up with the fact he was almost turned into red chunks when the warrior’s jump pack began to roar. “Remain here my lord. I will deal the traitor.” The warrior spread his wings and flew up, before turning and flying downwards to the foe, who looked up and smiled. The warrior bellowed a cry of anger and pain, screaming; “You shall die Lupercal!” The ork war-boss merely grunted, and slapped the warrior from the sky. He rolled on the landing and raised his bolt pistol, shooting two shots into the war-bosses chest before it crashed into the him, pushing him to the ground. The left off another shot into a leg, only to yell in outrage when the ork used its mechanical claw it rip his arm off, chucking it over his shoulder. It landed just by the slowly circling boy, who glanced at to see the bolt pistol still firmly held in the black hand. The Arch-Traitor’s claw split his armour like paper, causing crimson blood to burst out, and the angel bit back a scream. His other arm had already been shattered, and Lupercal seemed fine with drawing out his kill as long as possible. Even as the pain began to crowd his brain, the angel’s thoughts were only of his lord. Then another shot rang out, and Lupercal head bobbed forwards as if struck from behind. The confusion on his face turned swiftly to anger, and he turned to a sight that caused the angel’s almost broken hearts to stop. Sanguinius, Primarch of The Blood Angels, stood before Horus Lupercal with naught but a bolt pistol. His blood ran cold. The boy’s blood ran cold, as the war-boss slowly stalked towards him. Apparently the armour plating on the back of the ork’s head was stronger than he had guessed. Supporting the bolt pistol with both hands, he watched as the monster walked up to him before stopping a few feet away. It loomed over him, leaning over slightly so it could look at him with a wide smile, showing its sharp teeth and red throat. The boy hesitated for a moment, before smiling as well. Then he carefully raised the bolt pistol, and shot the ork in the mouth. The round carved through the soft flesh, then through the brain before exploding against the skull. The war-boss stood up sharply, shock on it’s face. Blood poured out of it’s ears, before it very slowly toppled backwards. The boy ignored the corpse, running past it to the warrior who was attempting to sit up. He dropped the bolt pistol and pushed against his torn chest-plate. “No, lie back down. You’re bleeding a lot.” The blood was already staining his leggings, but he ignored it. “My lord… did I… do well?” The angel’s father hovered above him, the only bright point in a darkening world. “You did.... Great. You saved my life. Just… stay awake. Someone will come.” Even as he said it, the boy began to hear a low humming, echoing through the dust cloud. But the warrior laughed, which quickly turned into a hacking cough. “Even if… my brothers were here… I am too far gone. My lord.... I am just glad you safe.” The world grew darker still, until only the Primarch could bee seen. He smiled, and reached down a glowing hand to cup the angel’s face. “Sleep well, my son.” “Warrior? Space Marine?” The boy knelt forwards, trying to hear what he was saying. “San… Sanguinius.” And with that, final darkness fell. The boy sat back, looking at his fallen protector. He was watching still when the gold and red craft emerged from the dust, and he didn't notice the Space Marines’ approach until one knelt beside him. “Are you wounded, child?” He looked up into piercing eyes above a blood stained beard, and shook his head. Behind the kneeling marine, the boy saw at least a dozen others including one wearing a hood instead of a helmet , wielding a short embellished staff. The marine beside cleared his throat, catching his attention. “What happened here?” “The warrior… your brother was unconscious when I found him. I tired to lead him back to you, but when we ran into the war-boss he… saved me from the bullets... then just charged at it. He dropped his bolt pistol, so I shot the ork with it… but he bled out.” “To die fighting for humanity is in the blood of the Astartes,” the hooded marine said. “But what else boy? How did he treat you?” “He… thought I was his father… he thought I was Sanguinius.” The boy looked down as the marines started turning to each other, probably expressing shock under their helms. But the hooded one merely nodded. “It is as I saw. Samael's Chosen defends the innocent child from the green tide. But the child rises on the Great Angel’s wings to save himself.” The boy frowned and turned to the bearded marine. “What is he talking about.” “It means, my child, you have been chosen by Sanguinius, our holy Primarch. We are the Ordo Angelus, and you shall join us. What is your name?” “Mikial, sir. Mikial Arch.” Even with his unique acceptance into the chapter, none predicted the meteoric rise of Mikial Arch. from aspirant to neophyte to full battle-brother in but a few standard centuries, Mikial fought in his gene-father’s name across hundreds of Imperium worlds. In him was seen the rebirth of Samael, first Chapter Master of the Ordo Angelus. Thus for some it was no surprise that, when the previous incumbent fell in glorious combat, First Company Captain Mikial Arch was called forth to take his place. Locked behind closed doors, Mikial knelt before High Grail Priest Blood-Beard. Between them, on a short altar, lay two relics of the chapter; the Primarch forged - and welded - Crozius Arcanum Purity Mace, and the simple but beyond priceless Angel Seal, contained inside a stasis field. Mikial’s golden helmet was also on the altar, staring judgingly at it’s wearer. “Before we begin, Mikial… are there any questions you have?” Blood-Beard smiled down at him, and Mikial looked back with a thoughtful face. “Perhaps… the Astartes that found me. Samael's Chosen. His gene-seed, that you your self collected. I have always wondered where my own came from...” Blood-Beard simply nodded, his eyes twinkling. Mikial nodded back, and turned his back to the altar. Picking up the Purity Mace, he began the first of nine times nine oaths. “I am a son of Sanguinius and the blood of Sanguinius flows through my veins. I strive to match Sanguinius’ example, as all my brothers do…” Category:Dragonofelder Category:Space Marines Category:Space Marine Chapters Category:Space Marine Stories Category:Stories